Secrets of the Wee Free Men and Discworld

by Linda Washington

  8. The Pyramid of Djelibeybi

  You don’t have to hop on a plane and head to Egypt to visit a great pyramid—not if you read Pyramids. It’s fitting that one of the magical wonders of Discworld is also a pyramid—the Great Pyramid that Teppic feels coerced to have built for his late father. (Not to be confused with the Great Pyramid of Tsort, which is an allusion to the Great Pyramid at Giza.) Teppic’s pyramid is the pyramid to end all pyramids—and to end the world, while it’s at it.

  Constructing a pyramid back in ancient times normally required thousands of workers and many years to complete. Case in point, the pyramid at Giza might have taken a workforce of possibly 100,000-300,000 people ten to twenty years to build. (Historians aren’t really sure about the numbers.) But the pyramid for King Teppicymon XXVII is assigned to be completed in three months with just a fraction of that workforce. How is that even possible? “Pyramid energy,” Euclidean geometry, and temporal displacement—the perks of a world of magic. And this pyramid can do what the pyramid at Giza can do—make a whole country disappear without the aid of a volcano.

  There you have it—the eight great magical wonders of Discworld. And no travel arrangements were necessary. Perhaps these wonders will stick around longer than the Colossus of Rhodes.

  A Few Words About Footnotes

  A nother magical wonder of Discworld are the tiny notes you find at the bottom of many of the Discworld novels. If you’ve slogged through a high school or college research paper, perhaps you thought you’d die if you had to write another footnote, let alone look at one. Footnotes are not usually the most interesting items on a printed page.123 But the footnotes strewn throughout the Discworld novels are among the funniest footnotes you can find in books. If you miss them, you miss key information and vital back-story.

  Pratchett’s not the only author who has fun with footnotes. Jasper Fforde, the writer of the Tuesday Next and Nursery Crime series, goes wild with his. Sometimes characters converse through his footnotes! Susanna Clarke, the writer of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, also uses footnotes to help tell the story of the history of magic in England.

  But getting back to Discworld, where else but in the footnotes can you find the hysterical story of Glod (Witches Abroad), the philosophy of Ly Tin Wheedle (Mort), or the résumé of Mrs. Marietta Cosmopolite (a former seamstress, but not a “seamstress,” if you know what we mean) as Moving Pictures describes? But then, you probably already knew that.

  15

  A Hierarchy of Power

  Power at a point. That’s what Tacticus said.

  And here it’s the one right on the end of Ahmed’s crossbow.

  —Vimes to Lord Rust in Jingo124

  Power. People die for it, vie for it, lie for it. Books are written about it: How to Win Friends and Influence People—the Dale Carnegie classic. The 48 Laws of Power (Robert Greene). Power vs. Force: The Hidden Determinants of Human Behavior (David R. Hawkins). Get Anyone to Do Anything: Never Feel Powerless Again (David J. Lieberman). We use PowerPoint on our PowerBooks and take power walks and naps.

  If you’re a student of history, you’re well aware that back in the sixteenth century, philosopher and statesman Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli wrote a treatise on power called The Prince.125 One doesn’t have to be a prince to be a mover and a shaker in a town. We looked for ways his advice seemed to be played out or ignored in Discworld.

  DISC-CLAIMER:

  Plot spoilers ahead. Read at your own risk.

  ANKH-MORPORK

  A prince ought to inspire fear in such a way that, if he does not win love, he avoids hatred; because he can endure very well being feared whilst he is not hated.

  —From The Prince, chapter XVII “Concerning Cruelty and Clemency, and Whether It Is Better to Be Loved than Feared”

  The View from Vetinari’s Desk

  Ankh-Morpork—the New York, London, or Shanghai of Discworld—is the largest city on the Disc. It is the City that Works—a nickname Chicago bears in our world. (Get it? Chicago Bears? We’re still trying on the puns.) It is a city where Patricians seldom come in names other than Vetinari. Oh sure, there have been Patricians before Lord Havelock Vetinari came to power (Crazy Lord Snapcase, a.k.a. Psychoneurotic Snapcase; Giggling Lord Smince). But now that he has the position, he’s managed to hold on to the reigns of power pretty tightly, even after several assassination or impeachment attempts by nobles and guild leaders such as Lords Downey (head of the assassins), Selachii, and Rust. But Vetinari’s the one who established the guild system in the first place, with its thieves, assassins, alchemists, beggars, clockmakers, “seamstresses,” and so on. And his training as an assassin makes him a leader almost impossible to get rid of. Just what the doctor ordered for Ankh-Morpork.

  Vetinari is the Denethor of Ankh-Morpork, a steward who does not sit on the throne of the city. Not that he would want to anyway, since it is wood covered in gold foil, as he reveals to Carrot in Men at Arms. Although he is not loved, he inspires fear the Machiavellian way. Any genuine despot would do the same thing. His life seems to reflect a principle found in chapter VIII of The Prince: “A prince ought to live amongst his people in such a way that no unexpected circumstances, whether of good or evil, shall make him change.”

  The way he handles Moist von Lipwig, the con man-turned-Postmaster in Going Postal—by dangling freedom in front of him and taking it away—seems to reflect a chapter 5 principle: “He who becomes master of a city accustomed to freedom and does not destroy it, may expect to be destroyed by it.” In other words, you can allow freedom, but only so far as you can control it. Vetinari keeps Moist and Vimes on a long leash, but a leash nevertheless.

  Capable Carrot

  Carrot Ironfoundersson, Captain of the City Watch and Vimes’s right-hand man (or right-hand dwarf, according to Carrot), might be that long-awaited king and thus the most powerful man in the city, but he refuses to be other than a watchman for the time being. Yet he has the charisma to unite people, as Vimes and Angua notice several times. He lives out the chapter VIII principle—the one about not changing. But how about chapter XVII, the one we mentioned earlier concerning the inspiration of fear or love? In that same chapter, Machiavelli remarks: “Upon this a question arises: whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? It may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person.”126 Carrot somehow manages to inspire both.

  Vimes Invested

  Vimes, as the duke of Ankh-Morpork, is the second most powerful man in the city, to the chagrin of the nobility. His rank is that of a knight with the title “Sir” like Paul McCartney, Elton John, Sean Connery, and … but, sorry, not Terry Pratchett (he is an Officer of the Order of the British Empire, however). Vimes chafes at being known as “Vetinari’s terrier.” But he knows which way the power wind blows. And it usually blows Vetinari’s way.

  Within any power structure, a clear chain of command is helpful. So the chain of command in Ankh-Morpork would go like this:

  But if you add the Watch, which Commander Vimes heads, the chain goes like this: (See diagram on the following page.)

  In Feet of Clay, Vimes describes himself as an advocate of the people. He seems to live by a principle found in chapter IX (“Concerning a Civil Principality”) of The Prince: “[O]ne cannot by fair dealing, and without injury to others, satisfy the nobles, but you can satisfy the people, for their object is more righteous than that of the nobles, the latter wishing to oppress, whilst the former only desire not to be oppressed.”127 While Vimes does not ignore the faults of the people, he at least knows that, like sheep, they need a shepherd.

  Dealing with Dragons

  Vimes’s belief is in direct opposition to that of the Dragon King of Arms, who hopes to put a noble puppet on the throne and be the power behind the throne. Machiavelli could probably take lessons from the Dragon King, who plays the political game like a chess grand master. Don’t like the pieces you have? Substitute new one
s—those who will do your bidding. The Dragon King’s “chess board” consist of the books of family heritage, which he uses to his advantage. This fits with Machiavelli’s suggestion that a prince study the art of war, described in chapter 14 of The Prince. With all wars, even those fought behind closed doors rather than on the battlefield, strategy counts.

  The actions of the noble dragon of Guards! Guards! however, seem to embody a principle found in chapter VIII (“Concerning Those Who Have Obtained a Principality by Wickedness”): “[I]n seizing a state, the usurper ought to examine closely into all those injuries which it is necessary for him to inflict, and to do them all at one stroke so as not to have to repeat them daily.”128 She’s also a firm advocate of crushing freedom, as Lupine Wonse learned the hard way.

  Moist Makes the Most of Matters

  And now on to that other branch of civil service: the Post Office. Due to his crimes, Moist von Lipwig has the reins of power firmly thrust into his hands by Vetinari. It is either that or be executed. By the end of Going Postal, he’s not only the Postmaster, but also the head of the Grand Trunk—the clacks company. Since we’ll have to wait and see how he does as the head of both (perhaps Making Money, the next installment of his story published in October 2007, explains that), we can only suggest this advice from The Prince, taken from chapter VI (“Concerning New Principalities Which Are Acquired by One’s Own Arms and Ability”): “A wise man ought always to follow the paths beaten by great men, and to imitate those who have been supreme, so that if his ability does not equal theirs, at least it will savour of it.”

  By the way, the Post Office hierarchy goes like this (Moist’s perspective):

  But from Miss Maccalariat’s perspective, it goes like this:

  Get Rid of Ridcully?

  We talked about Mustrum Ridcully, the archchancellor of Unseen University, in chapter 7. Ridcully is yet another leader who has maintained power for quite some time, despite attempts to murder him—murder being the way to gain another level in wizarding circles. The position of archchancellor of old embodied a principle of Machiavelli from chapter VII of The Prince (“Concerning New Principalities Which Are Acquired Either by the Arms of Others or by Good Fortune”): “Those who solely by good fortune become princes from being private citizens have little trouble in rising, but much in keeping atop.” How true. Ridcully seems to buck that tradition. Guess it pays to keep a loaded crossbow handy.

  Dabble Like Dibbler?

  A man with his own sort of power around Ankh-Morpork (and other places it seems) is Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler—the persistent purveyor of the sausage-in-a-buns that a person eats to his detriment. He is also an agent to some as well as a former movie mogul, having taken over from Thomas Silverfish in Moving Pictures. You know what happens to that career and the groups he manages in Soul Music. Is he a success? A failure? Although he may seem “to follow the paths beaten by great men”—the chapter VI principle we mentioned earlier—no one would say that Dibbler’s abilities savor of greatness. They savor of someone trying to rip you off.

  Keeping Company with Chrysophrase

  Speaking of ripping people off, there’s thug “prince” Chrysophrase, who wears a suit and engages in such activities as money lending at 300-percent interest (the mark of a loan shark) and extortion. He is chairman of the Silicon Anti-Defamation League—the troll watchdog committee. No one can deny that Chrysophrase has power. Whether you love or hate him, he’s a true Machiavellian devotée, one who lives out the chapter VIII principle we mentioned earlier (“A prince ought to live amongst his people in such a way that no unexpected circumstances, whether of good or evil, shall make him change”) and others. Unlike Dibbler, he is a “success” in Ankh-Morpork—an accepted hazard of life in a corrupt city.

  Shine On

  Mr. Shine claims to be “the indisputable king of the trolls,”129 as we learn in Thud! But instead of being a rock like shale, Mr. Shine is a diamond, but more than a “diamond in the rough”—the description for Aladdin in the movie Aladdin. Diamond trolls become kings. Cream rises to the top, apparently. But war follows in the wake of the rise of the diamond troll.

  A good chess player studies his or her opponent and learns to anticipate the opponent’s moves. Mr. Shine studies the dwarfs—the enemies of the trolls. How does he do this? By playing the strategy game Thud. This fits with Machiavelli’s notion that “to exercise the intellect the prince should read histories, and study there the actions of illustrious men, to see how they have borne themselves in war” (chapter XIV: “That Which Concerns a Prince on the Subject of the Art of War”).

  LANCRE

  Kings and Barons and Witches, Oh My

  With Lancre being a principality, the king is where the buck stops. Verence II, the former fool, is the king of Lancre as of Wyrd Sisters, with Magrat as his queen in Lords and Ladies. Their word is law (unless some vampires happen to take over the castle, as in Carpe Jugulum). But the real power in Lancre, even with vampires around, belongs to the witches, especially to Granny Weatherwax (see chapter 6), the top witch in Lancre, a title her close friend and associate Nanny Ogg does not dispute. So any king worth his salt would get the witches on his side, as the second Verence does in Wyrd Sisters. (This is a lesson Duke Felmet fails.)

  The witches, like the wizards, adhere to the “a cat can look at a king” principle. While they may call him “Your Majesty,” they still do as they please, except when someone foolishly tries to lock them in a dungeon.

  Granny is a textbook example of the Machiavellian principle concerning being feared rather than loved. Having a witch’s hat is the key to power, as Granny reminds Tiffany Aching as well as any reader of any book Granny happens to be in.

  According to Lords and Ladies, the chain of command in Lancre goes like this:

  130 But we think the chain of command goes like this even if witches claim not to meddle:

  THE CHALK

  In Tiffany’s farming community, the Chalk, the baron is supposedly top man under the king. But the real power belongs to Granny Aching, which still continues after her death. Even the baron seeks Granny Aching for wisdom. Now that’s power. And Tiffany is able to access that power—the power of the land—in The Wee Free Men. With Tiffany as the only witch around, she assumes the reins of authority, upon Granny’s death.

  So in The Wee Free Men, the chain of command is something like this:

  In Wintersmith, we learn that in the baron’s home, Roland’s aunts (Danuta and Araminta) rule with an iron fist while the baron is ill, thus adhering to the curtailing of freedom principle in The Prince. They are not successful at cowing Roland, who is a reader of books by tactical titan General Tacticus and knows all of the secret passages in his home. Again, we’ll have to wait and see how Roland shapes up as a leader. Thanks to his hero training, courtesy of the Feegles, we think he’ll do just fine.

  UBERWALD

  Those who unexpectedly become princes are men of so much ability that they know they have to be prepared at once to hold that which fortune has thrown into their laps, and that those foundations, which others have laid before they became princes, they must lay afterwards.

  —From The Prince, chapter VII, “Concerning New Principalities Which Are Acquired Either by the Arms of Others or by Good Fortune”

  Uberwald is the place for politickin’ and power-grabbin’, as Pratchett reveals in The Fifth Elephant. Different factions—vampires, werewolves, and dwarfs—scramble up the totem pole of power. In Shmaltzberg, the newly crowned Low King, Rhys Rhysson, exudes more political savvy than a popular favorite, Albrecht Albrechtson (an allusion to Alberich in the Ring Cycle—see the end of chapter 5). Judging by the way he (and that pronoun is debatable by the end of the book) handles Dee and Albrechtson, he embodies to a degree the principle from The Prince’s chapter VII quoted earlier, even though his election to the throne is not unexpected.

  The first task the Low King takes to establish a good foundation is to establish the authenticity of the Scone of
Stone, the scone upon which all Low Kings sit when crowned. Although the scone was made in Ankh-Morpork, Rhysson manipulates his political rival into authenticating the scone. A good move.

  The true queen of Machiavellian principles in Uberwald is Lady Margolotta, the vampire who is the Dragon King and Vetinari’s equal in political genius. As she explains to Vimes, “Politics is more interesting than blood.”131 Her shenanigans are like chess moves in a way, as she moves one piece here (Wolfgang) and another there (Vimes), but never puts herself—the queen—in check.

  When we first meet her in The Fifth Elephant, she’s studying Twurps’ Peerage—the who’s who of Ankh-Morpork—to find out who Vetinari might send as a delegate. This is the same chapter XIV Prince principle that Mr. Shine and the Dragon King’s tactics show.

  DJELIBEYBI AND BOROGRAVIA

  The prince … ought to make himself the head and defender of his powerful neighbours, and to weaken the more powerful amongst them, taking care that no foreigner as powerful as himself shall, by any accident, get a footing there.

  —From The Prince, chapter 3, “Concerning Mixed Principalities”

  Therefore, one who becomes a prince through the favour of the people ought to keep them friendly, and this he can easily do seeing they only ask not to be oppressed by him.